


that i would only give my life for love

by rogueangelhasthephonebox



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alex-centric, Angst, Being blown up by IEDS, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 21:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6924157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rogueangelhasthephonebox/pseuds/rogueangelhasthephonebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“There’s nothing more you can do for her, Captain. Just let them treat her.” You hear, but don’t register. You know this, but you want this feeling of total uselessness to go far away.</p><p>“No. I have to…” You gasp out, “I need to...”</p><p>You feel a needle go into your neck. You fall limp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that i would only give my life for love

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from "tender comrade" by billy bragg.

You are both in the front of the mastiff when it runs over the IED. The first thing you notice is the dust. Then it is the fact you are suspended upside down, and being held into your seat by your seat belt. 

 

Looking over to your left, you notice she’s not moving. In fact, you’re not even sure she’s breathing. 

 

Panic. 

 

“Bern. Bernie!” You try to get a response, but in this moment, all of your medical knowledge is failing you.

 

You think of the four others that are in the back of the mastiff with you. You call out to them as well, “Is everyone okay? Hello?”

 

There are groans as responses, and then the radio startles you. “ _Major Wolfe? Captain Dawson? Red Mastiff? Do you read?_ ”

 

You strain against your seat belt to reach for the radio. “Captain Dawson here, over.”

 

“ _Captain, what’s your status?_ ” 

 

“We hit an IED. A massive one. Major Wolfe is unresponsive. The mastiff has flipped... and we’re upside down. Dispatch another unit... as well as bomb squad. Over,” you are gasping for breath right now, pretty certain that you have some broken ribs. 

 

Inhaling deeply, you notice there is a familiar scent. 

 

Petrol. 

 

Shit.

 

“Get everyone out now. There is a fuel leakage somewhere. Get moving now!” You shout into the back of the mastiff before trying to unbuckle your seat belt. You fall, and land awkwardly on your ankle, but right now you couldn’t care less. You need to get Bernie out of the truck, and fast.

 

The first thing you try is the door. The metal bars on the outside that line the whole vehicle are doing their job, but you can’t get the door open. You hear a shout from the back of the vehicle, which means that they have at least gotten out of the truck.

 

You weigh up the options in your head. You can try and break the door down, or you break the window and pull her through that way. Either way, you are risking her neck and spine since you don’t know if she is stable or not. 

 

The door. With a few harsh kicks that make you double over in pain, you get the door open. You then have to try and get the seat belt off of Bernie without letting her fall further and injure herself even more. 

 

Readying yourself, you unbuckle Bernie’s seat belt and take her full weight.

 

“Major? Captain? Are you alright?” 

 

“Help me get her out, now!” you yell at the first person to offer you help. 

 

“Watch her neck, I’ve not stabilized her yet. Someone needs to grab the med kit out of the back of the truck and get as far away as we can.” You try and put on a commanding tone, trying to reassure your people. Trying to pretend you are not almost falling apart.  


 

“Yes ma’am, I’ll take her feet?” You nod, and you maneuver an unconscious Bernie out of the mastiff and onto the side of the road some distance away from the vehicle.

 

Kneeling down by the side of her head, you check her ABCs, and note that she is breathing, just unconscious. “Stay with me, Bern. Stay with me, love.” When you complete your assessment, you ask for a neck brace, which is handed to you immediately.

 

There is a shout from one of the members of your team, and you turn around to notice that the mastiff is shifting in the dust, and it falls back onto its side with a groan. Then, another explosion rocks your world. 

 

“GET DOWN!”

 

You dive on top of Bernie, trying to shield her from the falling debris, and you are hit by a few projectiles. Your ribs are already protesting the pressure you have put them under by moving Bernie, and now they seem to have cracked. Your breathing becomes a lot more panicked, and you notice that your team continue to work around you and Bernie. 

 

Two more mastiffs pull up to the wreck, one being the bomb squad, the other being a secondary medical team. You relay all of Bernie’s stats to them, but can do nothing more for her now. You feel helpless, and it knocks the wind out of you to realise you might have lost her today.

 

You begin to fall to your knees, but someone takes your weight against them, and leads you into the back of the same mastiff they are taking Bernie into. Clambering into the back of the vehicle, you clutch at your ribs, and when your back hits the seat, you groan in pain. The debris had torn at your back, and your ribs were now being very difficult. Someone hands you an oxygen mask, and you place it over your face. You watch as they move around Bernie. You feel helpless. 

 

You knock away the hands that are glancing over your sides to assess your ribs, and you try to get to Bernie. You try and grab for her hand which has fallen off the side of the gurney, but the attendant almost wrestles you back into your chair. 

 

“There’s nothing more you can do for her, Captain. Just let them treat her.” You hear, but don’t register. You know this, but you want this feeling of total uselessness to go far away. 

 

“No. I have to…” You gasp out, “I need to...”

 

You feel a needle go into your neck. You fall limp.

 

\-----------------------------

 

You wake up in what appears to be a tent. You feel very dizzy and disorientated. _Bernie_. _Where is Bernie_?

 

You try to make your body move, but you are sluggish and you can’t recall why. There is an attendant at your side. 

 

“Captain, we need you to not move for now,” they say. “You were sedated at the scene because you had a pneumothorax and you’ve cracked a couple of ribs.” 

 

“Where am I?”

 

“Still in Kabul, Captain.” 

 

“Major Wolfe? Is she..?”

 

“She was flown back to the UK this morning. She was stable when she left, but in a critical condition. That’s all I can tell you, Captain.”

 

“Thank you. Can… can I have a drink?” You want them to leave you alone.

 

“I’ll just get you that now.” They do. 

 

Over 3,500 miles separates you. You can almost feel it. It is almost ironic, you, who wants nothing but a normal life with Bernie back in the UK is stuck in this godforsaken war-torn country. And Bernie, the Major through and through, has been transported 3,500 miles away, when she has just been offered ten more years. God.

 

You want to cry, but would rather not face the questioning of the attendant in the makeshift hospital, so you bury your cheek further into the pillow and wait until you’re seen by your doctor, feeling all the more alone.

 

_ \----------------------------- _

 

The sat-phone is handed to you at 1800 hours.

 

You don’t recognise the number, but you answer it anyway.

 

“Captain Dawson.” The question of “who is this?” evident in your tone.

 

“ _It’s me, Alex._ ”

 

“Bern?” 

 

“ _Yeah, Alex. It’s me…_ ” 

 

You are a little lost for words now you are in contact with her. The feeling of relief that she is conscious and alive, unlike what your nightmares suggest, overwhelms you. “God, you’re alive!” You catch yourself sobbing.

 

“ _Alex, I’m alright. I am in Holby City Hospital, on the Darwin ward. I had surgery for my heart and my spine. Alex, I’m fine._ ” 

 

You hear the reassurances in her voice, and they almost stop you from crying. “I thought I’d lost you, Bern.”

 

“ _Alex, I’m alive. A little sore, though,_ ” you hear her laugh, and you feel a sad smile creep upon you. 

 

“I miss you,” You hear yourself whisper. You are alone in your bunk, but you feel the need to whisper still, as if you are both in the room together, defying all of the rules and regulations about relationships and conduct, but right now you couldn’t care less that you are almost a sobbing wreck.

 

“ _And I you._ ” She sounds a little off. “ _Thank you for the grapes._ ” She doesn’t laugh. You remember your message of, “ _**Get well soon, and get back here on the double, Soldier,** ” _ and you almost cringe. 

 

“Are you alright, Bern?”

 

“ _I’ve accepted the offer of returning, Alex._ ” She sounds almost gleeful, and you are devastated that you have to halt her excitement. 

 

“I haven’t, Bern. I’m leaving at the end of the month. I’m being honorably discharged. I'm coming home.”

 

You hear her gasp shudder over the line that is already a little crackly. “ _And what am I supposed to say to that?_ ”

 

You inhale, and exhale. You knows she hears your dejected tone, as she continues.

 

“ _I told Marcus I’m coming back, I told him and **now you do this**?_ ” She’s sad and angry, and you feel so  _ hurt _ by her tone that you can’t help what comes out of your mouth next.

 

“Well, maybe you can sort things out with Marcus when I’m not around anymore.”

 

“ _Please…_ ”

 

“What Bernie?” You have tears rolling down your face, and right now you couldn’t give a fuck about anything. 

 

“ _Just… please don’t…_ ”

 

“Goodbye, Bernie.”

 

You hear that the line terminates before you finish, but you say her name with the most reverence you have ever said anything before. 

  
**_What have you done?_ **

_\-----------------------------_


End file.
